News Worthy: Friends' Edition
by SeraphHT
Summary: Roach and Ghost weren't the only ones falling in love that spring. (Various couples) (AU, SLASH!)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_Oh, wow. I can't believe I'm actually posting this xD For those who haven't read the original _**News Worthy**, _don't worry, for you can still enjoy this fic without reading the other one. This is a story set in an alternate universe; Ramirez, Roach and Frost are workers for the local newspaper, The Hereford Times._

**_WARNING: _**_This is a **SLASH** fic, meaning boy/boy romance. No likey, no readey._

_This fic features multiple couples._

_Oh, and this takes place **during **the original events of **News Worthy**, so there are similar scenes only with different characters. That's all for now. Enjoy~_

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><p>"<em>Ramirez! <em>Get your ass over to that vending machine and get me some coffee!"

His anger rose at the authoritative voice and he felt the urge to scream back, but Ramirez suppressed his bubbling anger into a heavy, exasperated sigh. "Yes, sir," he mumbled submissively.

He looked at Roach, his friend whom he was talking to prior to the interruption. He patted Sanderson on the shoulder as they both rose from their seats. "I'll see you soon, bro."

Roach flashed him a smile, and they parted ways. Roach headed out the exit, whereas Ramirez went to the vending machine. He took a cup and pressed a button, watching as the coffee slowly filled the cup's volume, a creamy aroma filling his nostrils. He scrunched his nose at the smell and closed the cup with a lid before walking over to his superior's desk.

"Here you go, sir." Ramirez murmured, keeping his voice low.

Foley hummed in acknowledgement, eyes glued to the screen. He didn't even glance at Ramirez or murmur a 'thank you' as he was too engrossed in the article he was editing. Noticing his ignorance, Ramirez rolled his eyes and walked back to his desk.

On his way there, Frost entered the headquarters through the glass doors and immediately uttered a greeting upon seeing his friend. Ramirez mumbled the greeting back, the irritation from earlier not faded yet.

It did not pass Frost's notice that his friend was annoyed. He didn't want to ask, for he knew it was due to Foley's attitude toward Ramirez, so he remained silent about the subject as to not rile him further. Frost said automatically. "I got some photos for the café article. I'll be transferring them to you soon."

"Roger that," Ramirez nodded, straightening up in his chair and opening the program he used to edit the articles.

Frost frowned at the stiffness of the editor's voice. He wished he knew how to cheer Ramirez up, but his friend was a hard man to read.

* * *

><p>A day passed. It was nightfall on another casual Wednesday. As dark blue conquered the sky above him, Ramirez walked down the fairly clear streets of Hereford on his usual way home. He followed the pavement, guided by the lamp posts and familiar illumination from cafes and outlets open after darkness fell.<p>

He wasn't fully concentrated on where he was going, not that he needed to anyway, since he used the said path almost everyday. Because of that, his feet automatically walked as he flipped through a few photos in his hands.

It was a quarter past seven at that point. Though Ramirez was supposed to leave the headquarters almost two hours earlier, he couldn't help but stay to finish off a few articles before heading home. Now that MacMillan announced the second week of spring as the week's biggest issue, he had a whole new weight on his shoulders.

The pictures in his hands were shot by Roach and then transferred to him for the article. Ramirez decided to print them out and study them, so he could plan out which pictures to include and what to write about them. Being an editor wasn't easy, especially since he has a pain-in-the-ass superior delegating every little task onto his shoulders.

"Hmm…this one with the ladybug looks nice," Ramirez murmured to himself, smiling a bit. He stopped underneath a street light in front of a café with tables outdoors, and a few girls were seated around one of them. As he held the photo upwards for better lighting, he heard them whispering his name.

Ramirez was just one of the six men on 'The List', which was an unofficial record of the most charming men residing in Hereford, according to the women there. He honestly found nothing charming about himself, but hey, if the women thought he was good-looking, there was nothing he could do about it. The girls in Hereford are gossiping machines and are always up-to-date. In fact, sometimes issues spread faster than the newspaper can publish thanks to them.

"I like Ramirez," he heard one say. "He's quiet and polite. It's rather cute, isn't it, that he has quite a shy personality?"

He continued to examine the picture, though his mind was occupied with several unrelated thoughts. A lot of girls have approached him, but he never accepted their flirts or invitations for dates. There are many reasons, the main one being he was already taken by heart.

"Yo, Ramirez!"

He nearly jumped at the friendly, confident voice which greeted him. Turning in the direction of the voice, he found Jake Dunn walking towards him. He eyed his former co-worker, who was also his current crush, from head to toe. Dunn looked as though he was heading out somewhere; well-dressed, hair combed back, face clean-shaven and looking fresh. He even caught a whiff of his nice-smelling perfume.

Ramirez was surprised. He hadn't seen Dunn for quite a while.

"You look good," Ramirez voiced the first thought that popped up in his head. He instantly regretted the words the second they left his mouth.

"Don't I always?" Dunn chuckled. Ramirez wanted to smile and tell him it was true, but said nothing as Dunn took his turn to scan his appearance. "Well, you still look like the same old Ramirez."

Ramirez chuckled slightly. He never really cared about the clothes he wore or the supplies he used. As long as he looked okay in general, it was fine by him. A voice in his head constantly nagged that Dunn never noticed him due to his habit of being effortless concerning appearance.

With a small smile, he admitted, "Yeah…well, I don't really work on how I look."

Dunn arched an eyebrow and smirked. "I only said that you look like the same old Ramirez, not that you look bad. Actually, you look good without trying. You always have."

The compliment came as a pleasant surprise to Ramirez, who felt the blood rushing to his cheeks after the remark. Dunn must have noticed his blush, for he laughed slightly.

"Are you going somewhere?" Ramirez asked, his eyes returning to the pictures so it wouldn't look as though he actually cared.

"I'm going out to dinner with some people," Dunn replied.

The answer stung Ramirez. It hurt him to know his crush was off seeing other persons, but he knew he should have expected it, since he never confessed to Dunn about his feelings in the first place. He never had the guts to do so.

"You want to join me, Ramirez?" Dunn asked, "I don't think they'd mind having another person."

Ramirez was taken aback by the invitation, but was uncomfortable with the idea. The last thing he wanted was to tag along, spend his money, waste his time and ultimately end up watching Dunn flirt with somebody else.

"Thanks, but I'm busy," Ramirez flashed him a weak smile, holding up the pictures. "I'm helping Foley with a big issue. The, uh, second week of spring, you see."

"Oh? Can I see the photos?" Dunn asked, and Ramirez gave him the small stack in his hands. His hand made contact with Dunn's, the warmth from his skin sending a tingle down his spine.

"Roach took those," Ramirez murmured as Dunn went through them. He was obviously impressed, for he whistled and smiled at some pictures.

Ramirez felt a pang of jealousy for Roach, though he knew it was inappropriate to feel like that. Confidence was not the only trait that Ramirez felt he lacked—it was talent. Impressing Jake Dunn with his 'skills' was something he was never capable of doing.

Dunn handed the stack back after a few moments. Again, their skin brushed, and this time Ramirez realized how soft Dunn's hands were.

"Are you sure you don't want to follow?" Dunn frowned.

'_I want to have dinner with you more than anything else in the world, but not when other love interests are around…' _Ramirez thought, biting the insides of his cheeks. He knew he was just being a jealous bastard without any concrete evidence. For all he knew, Dunn could be having dinner with friends.

Despite that, he nodded and said softly. "Y-Yeah, I'm sure. Maybe some other time, dude. I'm really busy."

"A-Alright…" Dunn murmured, and Ramirez began to walk away. Dunn was a bit startled by the other's sudden initiation of departure, but he called out, "Call me when you're free, bro!"

Ramirez bit his lip, disappointed with himself for failing to have the courage when he needed it, once again. Frustrated with his lack of confidence, he didn't reply, and continued down the streets in silence.

* * *

><p>Frost and Roach approached Ramirez's desk on Saturday evening. The two photographers have completed their assignments for the day and decided to go see what their editor friend was up to. Apparently, he was working on the big issue.<p>

"How long is this second week of spring thing gonna be?" Roach asked, leaning against the side of Ramirez's table. Frost just stopped behind his chair and looked at the screen.

"Uh... it'll take up to six pages at the very least…" Ramirez murmured, almost automatically.

Frost glanced up at the clock and his face brightened. "It's already five o'clock, guys. Are you free for a few hours? I know a place for us to kill some time."

Roach nodded, and looked down at Ramirez. He was so intent on what he was doing, it didn't appear as though he heard Frost. Roach put a hand on his shoulder. "Ramirez, stop. It's time to leave this godforsaken office."

"Oh," Ramirez threw a quick glance to the time on his computer. Then, he continued tapping on the keyboard. "You guys go ahead; I'm staying back for an extra hour. Just a little bit more work on this article and I'll be done."

Roach and Frost exchanged doubtful glances. It worried them that Ramirez was doing unnecessary hours without getting paid or acknowledged.

"Oh, no—we aren't going to leave you here," Roach's lips parted into a small grin. "I hope you've saved your progress so far, mate."

Ramirez said subconsciously. "I save my work every five minutes."

"Perfect," Frost snickered, and then bent down and pulled on a plug.

Ramirez stopped and blinked, dumbfounded, when the screen turned black. He looked at his two best friends in confusion, and then finally got the idea of what happened. "Dude, I was working!" he exclaimed in disbelief.

Roach pulled him out of the chair and threw his arm around his shoulders, smiling. "Well, stop being a bloody workaholic and kill a few hours with us. Frost knows a fun place."

Ramirez groaned and rolled his eyes as his two friends forced him through the doors, down the stairs and onto the street. He walked between them as they continued down the road, the soft breeze and cloudy day signifying a beautiful evening.

"Where are we going?" Ramirez asked.

Roach shrugged and they both look at Frost. The blonde smiled. "We're going to the gun store."

"What the hell? Why?" Roach widened his eyes.

If Ramirez hadn't been next to him, he wouldn't have realized the blush creeping up to Frost's cheeks. "You know that they offer shooting classes, right?" he said, "They're complete with a shooting range and all that shooting equipment. I heard you have to pay for the classes, but…uh, you guys remember Sandman?"

"The older dude who obviously wants to jump your bones?" Ramirez arched a brow.

Roach laughed at his blunt remark, whereas Frost sputtered a few incoherent words in his embarrassment. However, Frost rolled his eyes and waved the remark aside.

"_Anyway, _he works as one of the shooting instructors there," Frost told them. "He offered us the shooting range for an hour, free of charge—uh, as a belated present for my birthday last week."

Ramirez was silent for a while, rather fond of the idea. The three always shared an interest in the military, and through different ways, have all fired a gun before. To be able to shoot bullets at a shooting range sounded exciting.

"That's the best birthday present a person like you can ever get," Ramirez flashed him a lopsided smirk. "Well, the best if you exclude buying a super-cool combat knife or an ACR to hang on the living room wall. Right, Roach?"

Both of them turned to look at Roach. His eyes were looking elsewhere and he seemed in deep thought, as though thinking of somebody.

Frost chuckled. "I don't know why, but he's been really disconnected for the past two days. I wonder what happened on Wednesday that got him like this—I mean, it was only after the park assignment that he always spaced out."

"Somebody must be on his mind," Ramirez smiled. "Let's not take him out of his reverie."

Suddenly, Roach sighed. "Ghost…"

Ramirez and Frost turned to look at each other, bewildered expressions on their faces, before sharing some laughter. At that moment, Roach's phone beeped and they stopped as he took the device from his pocket. He took a few moments, as though reading a message.

"What day is today?" Ramirez asked Frost.

"Saturday," he replied, "It's probably Yuri and Nikolai, eh, Roach?"

"Yeah, it is," Roach nodded. Then, he smiled apologetically. "I promised them some bowling tonight. I gotta go...so—uh, you guys go on."

"Alright, bro," Frost shrugged as Roach walked away. They waved goodbye, and he and Ramirez continued down the direction of the gun store.

"By the way, when did Dunn quit his job again?" Frost inquired.

Ramirez frowned. Dunn quitting his job as an editor for _The Hereford Times_ was not his fondest memory. He remembered how Dunn stormed out the headquarters, fuming with anger as he lost patience with Foley and co-workers who couldn't stand his complaining. Ramirez was the only one who didn't mind—instead, he'd rather listen to Dunn as much as possible, only because he liked the sounds of his voice.

Ramirez recalled how he felt later that night, after Dunn quit, when he returned home—how broken and depressed he was when he thought his co-worker, friend and crush was lost.

"It's been two weeks," he answered coldly. Ramirez hadn't seen or heard from Dunn during that period. That was, until two days ago, on Wednesday night.

"Do you know which job he took up after he quit?" Frost asked next, though the tone in his voice suggested it wasn't actually a question.

"No," Ramirez replied tersely.

"You're in luck, then," Frost grinned. "Turns out he took up a job as a shooting instructor."

Ramirez looked at his best friend, eyes widened and tone in disbelief. "_What?_"

"Yep, you heard me," The blonde winked. "Dunn will be at the gun store. He and Sandman are shooting instructors, teaching classes in the store belonging to a guy called Price, I think."

Ramirez reconsidered turning around and going home. "Oh…dude, I—"

"Ramirez, don't think I haven't noticed how stolid and irritable you've gotten after Dunn left," Frost reprimanded. "If being around Dunn will make you happy, then I'm gonna make you two happen. Make it count, alright?"

Ramirez opened his mouth to say something in protest, but then Frost added, "Invite him to dinner, or to play some pool, or _something._"

"_Call me when you're free, bro!" _Dunn's voice from a couple of nights ago flashed back in his mind.

"Alright, we're here," Frost stopped and pushed a door open. They entered, only to find themselves standing in artillery heaven, with weapons of different kinds stacked up on the walls and in the cases.

"You two yanks look too young to have a permit to own guns, so what are you doing here?"

They redirected their attention to a man standing behind the counter. He had a boonie hat on his head and a stern, steely gaze in his eyes.

"Friends of Sandman," Frost said with a nervous smile. "You must be Price."

"Oh," Price's stern gaze softened into a neutral one, and then he gestured the entrance to a small passageway. "Follow the path and you should arrive at the shooting range. My two instructors are almost done with a class."

After uttering thanks, the two Americans headed in the said direction and found themselves walking down an alley. Before long, they came across another door; this led to the section for target practise. Sandman and Dunn were there, watching and mentoring about five civilians as they shot down the targets popping up one by one.

Frost and Ramirez waited for a few minutes before the class was dismissed. As the students filed out the door, they received different reactions from the two shooting instructors. Sandman greeted them with a warm smile, whereas Dunn arched a brow at them. Ramirez could feel the sweat break out on his neck as his former co-worker's eyes scrutinized him.

"Hey," Frost grinned. After nodding to Dunn as a sign of acknowledgement, he patted Ramirez's shoulder and turned to Sandman. "Sandman, this is my co-worker and best friend—"

"Ramirez," Dunn suddenly interrupted. His arms were folded and he looked at Sandman with a small smirk. "James Ramirez. He's a junior editor at _The Hereford Times._"

Ramirez gulped. He wasn't sure whether to feel excited or disturbed by the way his name rolled off Dunn's tongue. Or by the way his face had such a smug smirk.

"Your best friend?" Sandman repeated, pretending to be offended. "And here I was thinking _I _was your best friend."

"Oh, you're much more than that," Ramirez managed to say, before getting elbowed in the ribs by Frost.

"So, I see that we all know each other," Sandman's friendly smile turned into an amused one as he looked from Ramirez to Dunn. However, instead of lingering on the 'coincidence', he rubbed his hands together and said, "Alright, you two can go ahead, pick up a pistol and go to one of the stalls. Once you're ready, either one of us will pop the targets up one by one. The other will supervise you."

"Give us some time to warm up," Frost smirked. "It's been awhile since Ramirez and I fired a gun, so we may be sloppy at first."

"If you have trouble, just ask us," Sandman offered, nodding towards the table where the firearms were waiting. As the two younger men walked towards the said table, he added, "Oh, and don't mess around. You have no idea how much extra work I promised Price in exchange for this."

"Speaking of your boss, he sounds like a tough guy to impress," Frost comments as he picks up the pistol. A small smirk crosses his face as the familiar and long-missed feeling of a gun in his hands returns to his sensation.

The pistol had a similar effect on Ramirez. Instantly, the discomfort and weariness of knowing Dunn was there washed away as soon as he had the gun in his hands, and a small smile tugged at the edge of his lips.

"He is, which is why he's still single," Sandman chuckled. "He must be too harsh on anybody who tries to get close to him."

"Careful, Sandman," Dunn smirked, grabbing the safety equipment essential for the learning shooters at one corner of the room. "Price might just hear you. That man has ears everywhere."

He walked across the room to the stalls facing the targets, where Frost and Ramirez were waiting. He gave the safety glasses and foam earplugs to Frost casually enough, but hesitated in giving them to Ramirez, especially because the younger man averted eye contact.

Ramirez's heart pounded against his ribs as Dunn stood in front of him, and he extended an arm, expecting the safety equipment to be put in his hands straight-away. However, his eyes were kept downcast, unwilling to meet with his crush's gaze. He saw Dunn's feet as he stood opposite him, but, after a few moments, his hand remained empty.

Confused, he braved himself to look up. Dunn had the eqiupment in his hands, an inquiring glint in his steel blue eyes and lips curved into an unsure frown.

Ramirez hated these kinds of situatuions—where his crush is directly in front of him and there's nothing he can use to distract himself. He was usually a nervous wreck when that happened.

Unwilling to say anything, Ramirez reached out and took the glasses and earplugs himself. He turned around, away from Dunn and to the targets, as he put them on.

Frost watched with a slight frown as Ramirez dismissed Dunn. He could tell the editor was just anxious.

Sandman walked up some steps towards what looked like a control panel. "I'll pop the targets. Dunn, you supervise them."

"Roger that," Dunn nodded, taking a few steps back, a bit between Frost and Ramirez.

Ramirez was uncomfortable to know Dunnw as supervising them. Especially since he was standing behind them, he felt rather naked to know every move he made was being watched.

Suddenly, as the first target pops, all current thoughts faded away as the two younger men focused completely. Both raised their weapons, aimed and pulled the trigger. Surprisingly, they were still accurate despite having not fired a gun for a while, though the occasions where they missed were rare.

Ramirez was doing fine the first five minutes, until he realized Frost was constantly glancing at him. The boards which divide the stalls were made of transparent, plastic planks, so they could see each other by looking to their sides. Lowering his gun, Ramirez arched an inquiring brow as he met with the blonde's gaze.

Frost's mouth moved, but no voice came out. Still, Ramirez was able to make out the words. 'He's staring at your ass.'

It took a few moments for the significance of the sentence to sink into his brain, but when it finally did, his brown eyes widened. He stared at Frost in disbelief, who simply shrugged and gestured for him to look over his shoulder and see for himself.

Still doubtful, Ramirez turned slightly to look behind him. Dunn was behind them, supposedly supervising how the shooting was going, but his eyes were directed to…well, true enough, his ass. The expression on Dunn's face could be described as pleased—with a small smirk on his lips and approving glimmer in his eyes, it's quite obvious he was enjoying himself.

Realization setting in, Ramirez turned back to his targets and tried to ignore the thought of Dunn checking him out. Unbeknowst to him, a light pink blush crept up to his cheeks as he raised his gun to fire at his target.

Frost noticed how Ramirez seemed unsettled after finding out where Dunn was looking, and watched with amusement as he pulled the trigger and missed his target. He fired again—two, three, four—all the same, the bullets whizzed past the plastic obstacles. Frost chuckled silently as Ramirez mumbled a curse and reloaded. Apparently, his mind was too occupied by Dunn until he couldn't concentrate on his shooting.

Ramirez was about to raise his gun again, but froze when he felt a hand clamp on his shoulder. He remained still as Dunn stood next to him, an entertained smile on his face as he looked at Ramirez with an arched brow.

"What's wrong, Ramirez?" he asked, his smooth voice sending the usual goosebumps over the other's skin. "You've been getting careless with the past few shots."

"Y-Yeah, sorry," Ramirez mumbled, lowering the gun and scratching the back of his neck. His eyes remained on the targets as his pulse began to race.

"Come on, hitting that target is easy," Dunn started, chuckling. He lifted Ramirez's arm, the one which was holding the gun, whereas his other hand lingered down to his hip. As the other began to blush madly, Dunn continued, his eyes on the target. "Stand straight, legs wide for a stable stance…"

If Ramirez didn't know any better, he would have accused Dunn's voice of having a trace of smugness in it. As though he knew Ramirez was embarrassed and enjoyed seeing him so.

Ramirez complied with what Dunn told him, though he already knew all these basics. _'The only reason I missed was because you were blatantly staring at my ass,' _he thought to himself, irritation briefly replacing his embarrassment.

Already in the proper stance to take a steady shot, he prepared to pull the trigger. However, before he could, a pair of arms hugged him from behind. Well, not actually _hugged _him, but it rested on top of his hand supported him as he held the gun. The action was similar to when a mentor teaches the student to hold something properly.

"D-Dunn?" he sputtered, surprised and flustered.

"Aim properly," Dunn whispered quietly, breath blowing against his neck in the process, proving how close they were. There was almost no distance between their bodies and the fact was maddening.

Hoping his arms weren't shaking too much, Ramirez gulped and tried to focus on the target as much as possible. Still—how could he? Anybody would freak out and get disoriented when a person of romantic interest is so close.

Hesitatingly, he pulled the trigger, and it miraculously hit the target.

"Head shot, nice," Sandman complimented.

Dunn moved away from Ramirez with a content hum. Relieved, Ramirez lowered his gun and tried his luck by glancing back at Dunn. His arms were folded, his expression was relaxed and satisfied, and he altogether looked as though he was entertained.

"You okay, dude?" Dunn asked, his smirk breaking into a handsome grin. "Cause, uh, your face is a bit red there."

Frost chortled at this comment. Ramirez glared briefly at his co-worker before looking at Dunn with a slight frown.

"You did all that on purpose, didn't you?"

Dunn shrugged innocently, though the expression on his face rather gave him away. His reaction doesn't prove convincing for Ramirez, who narrowed his eyes and, hesitantly, returned to shooting the targets.

Satisfied with himself, Dunn simply returned to enjoying the view of Ramirez's arse.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_So, uh, how was that? I don't like that ending tho, but it sounds pretty Jake Dunn-ish to me. Yeah, this one is based more on Ramirez/Dunn. Next one will be more Frost/Sandman._

_For those who have read the Roach/Ghost_ **News Worthy**, _Dunn, in this chapter, was heading out for dinner with Jackson and Roach as seen in the last scene of Chapter 1 xD Yeah, the times collide. And Ramirez thought wrong! Apparently Dunn really was just having dinner with friends. Oh well, pity on his part xD_

_Anyway, leave a review!_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_Whew, this chapters finally done! C: Thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter, it made me happy to know you guys anticipated this sequel. _

_This chapter centres on Frost/Sandman, as promised. I admit, I had a bit of a writer's block, which was why it took so darn long. Not sure whether I'm happy with the chapter or not, because I personally think it was a bit faster than I would've liked it to be, but the draft is long enough already for to fix that._

_Anyway, read on!_

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><p>On Tuesday afternoon, Frost exited MacMillan's office, the assignment for the day fresh in his mind. However, as he adjusted the camera hung around his neck, MacMillan's door opened and the boss's head popped out.<p>

"Ey, Sanderson!" MacMillan called out to Roach, who had just entered the headquarters. Roach looked at him, startled. "Get your arse in here!"

Frost watched as Roach rushed past him and into the office.

With an amused smile, the blonde walked up to Ramirez, who was nearby and had watched the ordeal. He nodded toward the main office's door, inquiring, "What's up with Roach? Did he get in trouble?"

"Quite the contrary, my friend," Ramirez smirked, setting the can on the table. He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Haven't you heard? Roach and I got a man who tried to snatch a woman's handbag yesterday afternoon."

"What?" Frost's eyes widened. "You mean—_you guys _caught him? Front-row seats?"

"Front-row seats!" Ramirez's lips broke into a grin. "But that doesn't mean _we _caught him. I got the handbag, but the culprit ran away and Roach pursued him. Next thing I knew, the guy was on the ground with Roach holding him down, but Roach said it wasn't _him _who caught the bastard. It was Ghost who caught him."

"…Ghost?" Frost asked, bewildered.

"Yeah, you know how Roach has been spacing out since the park assignment six days ago? I confronted him about it," Ramirez scratched his chin, his lips twitching in an attempt to supress a smile. "Turns out he has a crush on some stranger he nicknamed Ghost. Turns out Ghost was coincidentally there when the culprit was running away."

"What? Roach has a crush on someone?!" Frost's jaw dropped. Slowly, he closed his mouth and his grin matched Ramirez's. "Damn, that's bigger news than the handbag snatching thing! And here I was thinking Roach wasn't capable of being romantically interested."

"He hasn't told me much about Ghost, since he doesn't know much himself," Ramirez continued, pausing to take a sip. "But he met Ghost during his park assignment. If you wanna know more, you'll have to ask Roach. I have to go work on this snatcher article. I mean, how often do you get crime-related news in _Hereford?"_

Both Ramirez and Frost chuckled. After exchanging goodbyes, Ramirez returned to his desk. Instead of heading out of the building to start working on his assignment, Frost decided to wait for Roach. Oh, he wanted to know more about his best friend's crush.

Before long, Roach exited MacMillan's office and greeted Frost with a warm smile. Frost approached his friend and nudged him with his elbow.

"You lucky bastard," Frost smirked. "The boss must be as excited as hell to know you and Ramirez had front-row seats to something so juicy. He must have given you a raise."

A sly smile spread across Roach's face. "If it'll make you feel better, how about a trip to the arcade tonight?"

"If you're paying, count me in," Frost chuckled. Then, he looked around, and with a cheeky gleam in his eyes, he lowered his voice and whispered, "By the way, I heard from Ramirez—what's this about a man you named Ghost?"

Immediately, Roach's smile disappeared and he groaned. "Urgh…why did Ramirez tell you that?"

"He only told me," Frost assured.

"Don't you have an assignment?" From the tone of Roach's voice, it was obvious that he was reluctant.

"Yes, I do," Frost said matter-of-factly, grabbing Roach's arm and dragging him out of the headquarters. "Come on, walk with me to the musuem. I have to take a picture of the newest artifact. It just arrived."

Roach sighed and rolled his eyes. "Why can't you go alone?"

Frost smirked deviously. "So you can tell me about Ghost on the way."

With a grunt, Roach acquiesced, and the two began their walk.

"Fine…what do you want to know, my nosy American pain-in-the-arse?" Roach snorted.

"What happened at the park six days ago?" Frost prompted, ignoring Roach's snarky remark and raising a blonde eyebrow at his friend.

"I was standing over that little wooden bridge in the park, and I overheard some girls talking about a new guy on 'The List'," Roach began, shoving his hands in his pockets. "They hardly knew anything about him, and he just happened to be passing by at the time. So, when they pointed him out, I just turned to see who this new guy was."

At this point, Frost noticed the light blush tinting the other's cheeks. "I…uh, I was kinda caught off guard at how handsome he was, I guess. We had eye contact for a solid ten seconds, and I think that set off a spark inside me."

Roach waited for a response from Frost. The blonde was just watching him, listening attentively, and this urged Roach to continue, "When I turned to see where he was going, he just disappeared. He was gone, and I just looked away for a minute or two. Hence, the nickname Ghost."

"Alright, that's how you met him. So, what of yesterday?"

"The snatcher punched me and caught me off guard," The edge of Roach's lips curved upwards into a self-depreciating smirk. "Ghost popped out of nowhere and took the bastard down in one go. My saviour, heh."

When Roach didn't say any more, Frost hummed thoughtfully.

"Wow, he must be really good-looking," he said, smiling ironically. "Now that he and this Makarov guy are in the picture, there's going to be some real competition to be on the top of the list."

Instead of lingering on the subject of Ghost, Roach diverted the conversation elsewhere. "How's it going with you and…Sandman, is it?"

At the mention of Sandman, Frost immediately flushed. He stared at his friend with a look of disbelief. "Seriously, Roach?"

"What?" The other shrugged his shoulders, smiling innocently.

At this point, they passed by a nearly-empty, expensive-looking restaurant with glass windows and doors. Roach suddenly stopped walking, and, noticing this, Frost looked at him, confused.

"Erm…Roach?"

"Umm, I have to go, buddy," Roach abruptly coughed, sheepishly glancing at the American. He pawed the back of his neck and mumbled, "I'll see you later."

Despite still puzzled, Frost didn't question his friend (it was quite obvious Roach seemed a bit frantic) and slowly walked away. "O-Okay…I'll see you soon."

After walking a small distance, Frost glanced over his shoulder, just in time to catch Roach entering the expensive restaurant. _'Strange…' _Frost thought to himself, frowning. _'Did Roach see somebody in the restaurant that he recognized?'_

A few minutes into walking, he heard somebody calling for him. Frost turned around, and, to his surprise, found Soap with a small smile on his face, approaching him.

"MacTavish?" Frost raised an eyebrow, amused. "Were you following Roach and I all that time?"

"Not exactly. I saw Roach enter the restaurant and took a peek in," Soap replied, smiling sheepishly. The two resumed walking as he continued, "He's talking to a tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed lad and looked pretty happy about it, too. I don't suppose he's informed you of a man called Ghost…?"

"He just told me about it," Frost said.

"Oh, well, I think the chap Roach's talking to in that restaurant is Ghost," Soap's sheepish smile turned into a smug smirk. "I ain't gonna tell 'im that I peeked in and walked off without him realizing, though. Poor lad might get embarrassed as hell. Anyway, after I walked off, I spotted you a distance away and just figured you were walking with Roach before he went into the restaurant."

"Yeah, that's true," Frost grinned. "Huh, so _that _was why he suddenly stopped walking. Geez, I just hope that nervous wreck manages to get Ghost's number. Truthfully, I didn't think Roach would _ever _find his soulmate."

Soap arched a brow. "Why is that?"

"Because he always turned down everybody who's approached him," Frost answered. Then, he added with a hint of mischief. "A bit like you, Soap. Single, wanted by almost every woman in Hereford, yet turns everyone down politely. What's wrong with you two? Do you guys have a very specific type?"

"Roach and I don't have types," Soap retorted. "We like who we like. Pretty sure Ghost fits that category for Roach. As for me…I'm still looking." He spared a smile at his last sentence.

"Yeah. You're like, what, twenty-nine?"

"What's wrong with being twenty-nine and single?" Soap pouted.

Frost eyed Soap suspiciously. "_Anyway, _I'm heading for the museum. It's an assignment to take pictures of some artifact. Are you following? I don't mind."

Soap contemplated the matter for a few seconds, but just as he opened his mouth to reply, he spotted somebody ahead of them. Instantly, he smiled and patted the younger man on the shoulder. "Eh, I'd like to, but I have things to do. Besides, there's somebody nearby whose company you'd enjoy more than mine."

Soap pulled out a cigarette and chuckled as he walked away, leaving a very confused Frost staring after him. However, the blonde's confusion dissolved the minute he heard another voice that he was all too familiar with.

"Frost? On another assignment, I see?"

Frost turned to see Sandman dressed casually in a polo shirt, jeans and dark-tinted eyewear. Well, dressed casually might be a sort of understatement, because _damn _can he really sport those clothes right. He looked good in any kind of clothes, really. In fact, how does he look so impossibly young for someone his age?

Frost suddenly felt a bit self-conscious, mainly because he personally thought that his own taste of clothing for the day didn't fulfill his usual standards. Frost wondered whether he looked okay, especially since he wasn't expecting to run into his inappropriate crush in the middle of an assignment.

"Yeah, what else am I supposed to be doing?" Frost replied, rolling his eyes with a smirk. Then, he playfully accused, "Oh, and you scared MacTavish off. Now I don't have anyone to keep the boredom away when I'm in that museum."

"Well… I'm here," Sandman pointed out, a smile tugging at his lips. With a light chuckle, Frost began walking, and the older man ambled alongside him.

Frost looked at him inquiringly. "So…you don't have any classes to teach today?"

"I do, but all of the students coincidentally called in sick," Sandman told him. "A lucky day off for Dunn and I. Oh yeah, I've been meaning to ask you about that. Dunn and Ramirez, I mean. That smug bastard won't tell me a word about what's going on between him and your editor friend."

"Heh, you honestly think I'd tell you?" Frost arched a brow, smiling. "Keep your nose out of other people's business, Sandman."

"I was just looking for a subject for conversation," Sandman shrugged. Then, he glanced at Frost from the corner of his eyes. "Besides, I can guess what's going on, anyway. It was actually kind of obvious."

After a few seconds, he asked, "So, mind shedding some light on this assignment? What are you supposed to take a picture of?"

"Another artifact, it was shipped into Hereford yesterday night…the usual stuff, you know," Frost replied, frowning slightly. "Nothing exciting. There's hardly anything exciting happening here."

"Well, I heard some Vladimir Makarov just arrived in town," Sandman remarked, scratching his chin. "Rumour has it he's investing in some companies and expanding his business. Who knows, maybe he might present a problem in the future."

Frost wasn't really listening. He stared at Sandman from the corner of his eyes, glued to his pale lips as he spoke. Darn, even his lips looked soft. This wasn't fair.

"Uh…Frost?"

The blonde snapped out of his reverie and quickly averted his gaze from Sandman's mouth, especially when the older man realized where he was looking and had smirked and raised an eyebrow at him. He could feel heat rushing to his cheeks, and oh, he can feel Sandman's eyes on him.

Faking a cough and fumbling with his camera, he said, "Y-Yeah."

"I doubt you heard what I said," Sandman pointed out, a small chuckle escaping his lips. Frost's heart did more backflips than usual. "Was there something on my face?"

"No, no, you're good," Frost shook his head.

"So, you have a girlfriend?"

Frost shot Sandman a look. "What brought _that_ up?"

"Why do you have to be so suspicious?" Sandman sighed. "I'm trying to keep the conversation."

Frost laughed softly. "Oh, sorry. It's just that the question was so sudden," he paused, and then replied quietly. "And, no. I don't have a girlfriend yet."

Sandman arched a brow at him. "That's strange. You already own an apartment, have a job, _and _you have good looks…" At this point, Sandman's eyes looked at him from head to toe, and Frost flushed slightly underneath the gaze. "_Really _good looks. And you don't have a girlfriend yet?"

"It's not that girls don't n-notice me, alright?" Frost stuttered. He clearly wasn't the best at handling compliments. "I just, uh, turn them down…"

"Hey, I didn't say that girls don't notice you," Sandman flashed him a lopsided smile. "The women in all of my classes always talk about you."

"Oh…" Frost wasn't sure how to respond. He wasn't really surprised, anyway. It was a known fact he was one of the six men on 'The List'.

Not wanting the conversation to falter and lead to awkward silence, Frost took his turn to ask a question. "What about you? Aren't you gonna start looking for a woman to settle down with?"

Just as he finished his inquiry, Sandman locked gazes with him. Unable to handle the eye-contact, Frost's gaze redirected to the camera hung around his neck, and he pretended to fumble around with it, again. Thank god his camera was there to help reduce awkwardness.

"Who would get attracted to somebody like me?" Sandman replied light-heartedly, a smirk gracing his features. "Not only am I old, but with the women talking on and on about you youngsters on 'The List', I don't stand a chance."

"Don't say that… I mean, you never know if there's somebody out there who likes you," Frost tried to reassure, though failing miserably. His voice was wavering and he was sure his cheeks were visibly pink. "Besides, you look younger than you really are. And you're friendly and fun to talk to."

At this point, they reached the museum. Pushing the glass doors open, their conversation was temporarily paused as Frost stated why he was there to the woman behind the counter.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but we can't have anybody from the press back there," The worker said apologetically. "We weren't notified that there'd be any photographers."

"What? But I always come by when there's a new artifact shipped in." Frost argued.

"Oh, well, it's a long story," The worker began, still sounding apologetic. "To make it simple, my boss figured that having the pictures of the latest artifacts published in the papers decreases the number of visitors, since the readers have already seen the artifact in the media, so they see no purpose in coming to the museum to see the artifact for themselves."

"What? That's crazy, publishing pictures of the artifact will definitely bring more visitors." Frost didn't like where this conversation was going.

"Look, I'm sorry. If there's anything I could do about it, I would've done it, but I can't. Good day, Mr. Westbrook."

Irritated, Frost turned around and walked a few steps away from the counter. He pulled out his phone and dialed MacMillan's office number.

"How famous are you? You didn't even tell that girl your name, yet she already knew." Sandman remarked, his eyes sweeping across the main foyer of the museum. He noticed a group of college girls whispering to each other and glancing at Frost. "Hmm, looks like every girl here knows your name."

Frost caught a hint of distaste in the way Sandman said his words, and if he didn't know any better, the way Sandman narrowed his eyes at the girls was almost as though he was jealous. Whether he was envious of the girls checking him out, or whether of Frost for getting all the attention, he will never know.

"Aye?" MacMillan's scruff, Scottish-accented voice sounded from the other end of the line.

"I don't have access to the artifact, some shit about visitors decreasing and stuff," Frost sighed quietly, contrasting the amount of exasperation swelling in his chest. This was the first time in his photography career that he was denied access to whatever it is he was supposed to shoot, and _damn _was the feeling frustrating.

"Oh, that's bad," MacMillan sounded worried. "Can't you do something, lad? We can't have an article like this without at least one photo."

"Well, what do you want me to do? Sneak in?"

There were a few seconds of silence on the line. Frost's sporadic, incredulous suggestion suddenly made sense to both him and MacMillan at the same time.

"Possible, but are you willing to actually take the risk?" MacMillan asked, sounding thoughtful.

"Are you kidding? This job is my life, I'm _so _getting that picture," Frost replied, though a hint of nervousness laced his voice. "Besides, just like you said, what kind of article would it be without a single photo?"

"I don't want to have you arrested for trespassing or whatever shite they might pin on you, so one good picture would suffice," MacMillan said, concerned. "Get in, do it, get out. Simple as that. You understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"I wish I was there to help, because back in the day when _I _was a journalist, I was quite the stealth artist—made my way past tens of guards with a friend of mine—but…that's another story. Good luck on that photo, Westbrook."

Frost chuckled, slightly delighted to hear a part of MacMillan's life story, albeit it being very brief. "I'll get it to you soon."

Ending the call, he looked up at Sandman and grinned. "So, how do you feel about a little stealth mission?"

"What?" Sandman blinked, confused. However, things clicked in place pretty quickly for him, and he stared at Frost incredulously. "Wait, your boss actually agreed to you sneaking in?"

"Can't have a proper article without a photo," Frost shrugged.

"You can't be serious."

"Hey, if Hollywood journalists go to the extreme getting the right shots, why can't I?" Frost countered, before sparing a smile. "Let's get some tickets and enter the exhibits. I've been here more than a few times, I know a way to the storage."

* * *

><p>"Huh, not many people here," Sandman remarked, looking around. There were a few families, a group of tourists following a guide, a few students scattered here and there.<p>

"It's a museum," Frost stated, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

After walking for about ten minutes, Frost pointed out a door to the left with 'Staff Only' imprinted in bold on the door. "There it is," he said.

Sandman pouted. "Well, that was quick. I was beginning to enjoy our quiet date."

Frost paused, wondering whether his ears were deceiving him. "Our quiet what?"

"Date," Sandman repeated, emphasizing the word and saying it carefully, locking gazes with Frost again. The younger man detected a smirk falling upon the other's lips.

Frost wasn't sure what Sandman was trying to get at, but it did get him a bit embarrassed. With a slight burn pinching his cheeks, Frost looked away and tried to push their short conversation to the back of his head.

Frost pointed out a security guard, who was standing a small distance away at a corner by a L-shaped turn. "We'll wait until he looks away and make a run for it. Once we walk past that door, I don't think there would be any cameras." He looked around and said, "Huh, the cameras out here are pointed away from that door. They rely too much on the security guard."

They loitered for a few minutes, and once the guard looked off in another direction, Frost grabbed Sandman's arm and dashed to the door. "Here's our chance! Come on!"

Frost twisted the handle and threw the entrance inwards. They entered as the door closed behind them, and the two men found themselves standing in a straight corridor with marble floors, white concrete walls and multiple wooden doors.

"The second-last door is the storage room," Frost informed, walking ahead of the older man.

"You seem pretty capable of sneaking around," Sandman commented, amused by how easily they've gained access.

"Oh, you should see Roach. Now, _he's _a sneaky bastard."

The storage was a large, T-shaped room. It was dimly-lit, with sturdy, tall shelves lining up either side of the walls, all of its tiers occupied by glass casings housing historical artifacts. Sandman whistled, impressed, and it partially echoed.

"What was that?" A male voice somewhere in the room suddenly asked, giving both Frost and Sandman mini heart attacks.

"Oooh, shit…" Frost cursed softly. Damn, there was someone else in the room! As footsteps clicked off the concrete floor somewhere ahead of them, he looked around frantically for a place to hide. Between two shelves, there was an alcove, and the darkness should be sufficient enough to conceal them.

Frost pushed Sandman into the alcove, pressing the older man against the wall as he squeezed into the recess with him. It wasn't a spacious hiding place, so Frost kept his hands on Sandman's shoulders, keeping him pressed with his back to wall, and inched in just so he would be safely fitted into the alcove. His camera dangled off to the side.

'_Ooooohhhh, shiiiiittt…' _was all that was running through his head at that moment. He was so fucking close to Sandman. Why did the only available hiding place have to be so damned small?!

Sandman exhaled, the warm breath blowing into Frost's silvery-blonde hair. Frost knew that if he looked up, his face would be close enough to Sandman's that he could easily just lean forward and kiss him. But, Frost kept his face down, staring at their feet. The edge of his shoes touched with the edge of Sandman's boots.

Frost was pressed up against Sandman's chest, and he can already feel the abs underneath that polo shirt. It was strange how Frost couldn't detect Sandman's heartbeat, though that was probably because he was too panicked to take the time to detect it. Not only that, since he was so close, this can actually qualify for an awkward kind-of hug.

Biting the insides of his cheeks, his neck began to hurt from the way he forced himself to look down. Sighing quietly, Frost just prayed it didn't seem too awkward, and relieved some of the pain by resting his forehead on Sandman's shoulder, reducing stress on his neck.

His heart beat wildly, pounding against his ribs and throbbing in his ears, Frost felt as though it would jump out of his chest. He wondered if Sandman could feel the racing pulse.

At that moment, he felt two figures walk past the alcove they were hiding in. The workers were talking, but his mind was too occupied to actually register what they were saying. What he _did _register was the sound of the storage door closing.

After a few seconds of silence, Frost breathed a sigh of relief and immediately stepped back, squeezing out of the hiding place. He looked down at the floor, checked his camera to make sure it wasn't damaged, and then glanced at the door. In fact, he'd look at anything but Sandman.

"Alright, that was pretty damn close…" Frost laughed nervously. He avoided looking at the other man and proceeded to walk down the hallway.

"'Pretty damn close'?" Sandman sounded amused. "Frost, you were _really_ pressed up against me."

Frost immediately flushed. His cheeks must have absorbed into seven different shades of red, and he was just thankful he was facing away from Sandman.

"I was referring to almost getting caught, not the distance between us…" he muttered, sentence trailing off. He turned right, where the new artifacts are usually opened from the packaging and put in glass cases. True enough, the artifact he was looking for sat in a glass casing on a pedestal.

Turning on his camera, he adjusted the lens and said, "You can look around, if you want. I'll take a few pictures from a few different angles, and then we can leave."

Sandman hummed, and walked off to the opposite corridor. His footfalls produced no sound.

After taking two shots, Frost heard some footsteps clicking off the floor. Since he considered them to belong to Sandman, he took no notice of it. That was, until, the same male voice from earlier startled him.

"Hey, you're not supposed to be here!" The guard warned sternly, glaring at the American photographer. Frost froze, wide-eyed with camera aimed towards the artifact, like a deer caught in headlights.

'_I'm so screwed,' _he thought, panic rising in his chest.

Suddenly, Frost noticed Sandman's figure creeping up to the guard from behind, which just raised Frost's alarm, worried that Sandman was also going get pulled into the mess. However, he surely didn't expect Sandman to strike the guard at his neck, which immediately knocked him out.

As the man lied on the floor, unconscious, Frost stared at him, surprised and unable to comprehend what he just saw.

"Did you just…" Frost couldn't finish his question. He couldn't believe Sandman just did that.

"You got the photos you needed?" Sandman asked, arching a brow. "I think we have to get out of here."

"Y-Yeah, I think I've gotten what I wanted," Frost said, looking from the unconscious man to the artifact, and then to Sandman. "I know a back door exit. Let's go."

Fortunately for them, they didn't encounter any more authority figures on the way to the exit. Three minutes later, Frost pushed a door open and squinted as bright sunlight partially blinded him.

The familiar sounds of humming cars, blowing wind and people nattering away in the outdoor cafés assured the duo that they've escaped.

Frost embraced the feel of fresh air by inhaling deeply.

Finally, he laughed and turned to Sandman. "Oh my god, dude, that was crazy! I was almost sure you and I were going to get arrested, and when you knocked him over, I thought we were just gonna get additional charges."

Sandman chuckled. "It was risky, but…I admit, I did enjoy it."

"The way you took him out, man!" Frost beamed, and then imitated the way Sandman struck the guard on the neck. His crush chuckled, probably because Frost was acting like an excited child. "Wham! Just like that! You've gotta teach me how to do that!"

Sandman only smirked, and Frost led him out the back gate and to the streets. They walked down the pavement as the blonde grinned and continued, "Oh, and thanks. You're my hero, heh."

"Well, as payment for saving you, how about dinner at my house tonight?"

There it was again. There must be something wrong with Frost's hearing.

Then again, it was possible his ears weren't lying, especially with how Sandman was smirking and looking at him hopefully.

"I'm sorry, but I've already promised Roach," Frost declined, immediately regretting the words the second they left his mouth.

"Promised Roach what? Dinner at his house?" Sandman asked incredulously.

"What? No, man, we're going to the arcade tonight!" Frost replied quickly, looking horrified. "Come on, not _Roach, _of all people, alright? I mean, I like _you, _so no way there's anything going on between Roach and I!"

Sandman was silent for a while. Frost thought he was just processing the explanation, but then Sandman asked, "Wait—you like me?"

Frost's heart stopped.

"I—uh, I, ah…" he stammered, unable to make out coherent words. Oh, how he wanted so badly to slam his face against the wall.

After three full seconds of making a fool of himself, Frost faked a cough. "Ah, you know what? I'm gonna, uh, go get the pictures to my boss, and, erm, go home to get ready for the arcade. Sooo… I'll see you later."

He turned around and began to walk away, biting his bottom lip as a deep blush tinted his face pink.

From behind him, he heard Sandman sigh. "Damn, should've kissed you at the alcove when I had the chance…"

Frost was almost sure he misheard that.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_Aw__, poor Frosty, he's so insecure! x3_

_Thanks for reading, and leave a review!_


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